Galatians 2:20a
I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not i, but Christ liveth in me:
My Life Verse

Ephesians 6:6

Not with eyeservice, as men pleasers; but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart;

Friday, November 16, 2007

(16)Friends!

Hiya....sorry it's been so long since i have posted.....i am a busy woman! hehe

Last night we won our FIRST VOLLEYBALL MATCH!!!! 25 to 0 both games! Now ask me how that worked! hehe

Tonight we went to the Red and White game at our church. It's where the women staff play the girls team at volleyball and the men staff play the guys team at basketball. IT WAS AWESOME!! Kailyn, Alaina, Justin, and I sat together and we had a blast. (yes we were sitting on bleachers, and yes my back side is happy to be sitting in a padded chair right now!)

The girls beat the ladies.....but as always year after year.....the men staff won!

Also something really cool happened! Our football team went to the championships this year! They lost by 10 points. Yes we were all so proud of them especially considering that our team has stunk the past couple years. They went so far....had awesome team spirit and all the TACCS gave them was a plack. So....Mr. Wilson had all the team members and coaches gather in the middle of the gym. He told us all what a phenomenal job the guys had done...then he said, " these guys worked so hard, had THE best team spirit, and this is all they got." and he dropped the plack on the table in front of him. Then he said this. " I want to be the first to put in my ten dollars to get these men the trophy they deserve. Who will help em get it?" Then everyone started clapping slowly at first, then a little quicker....all in unison....as many men headed for the table throwing in there ten or twenty dollars. Even some of the kids brought one or two. They then counted it and we had raised almost 2oo dollars to get them a trophy! Cool huh? I just wish something like that would happen with the building fund!

Well me gots to go but read my essay that i wrote for my act prep class.

The question was.....What are three qualities you would want in a good friend?
Hope you enjoy!

.....the format is goobered where i copied and pasted but i guess you get the point!

Rachael Campbell Campbell 1

New Skills

Word Count: 279

Friends

Friends can have many different qualities. There are three qualities in a friend that are very important to me for specific reasons. These three qualities that I want in a good friend are trustworthiness, respect, and a desire to serve and please God.

Trust is important in any and every relationship. I want my friend to be trustworthy because I want to know I can trust him with anything. Whether it is something as small as a secret or as big as my life, I know he’d never tell my secret and would save my life if he could. Or if I asked him to do something for me I know he’d get it done.

Respect is also a very important quality. I want my friend to treat adults and people in authority over him in an honorable fashion. In my eyes, if a person shows respect then he himself becomes worthy of my respect and that of others.

Above all, I believe that the sincere desire to serve and please God in every aspect of my friend’s life is the most important. The Bible says in Proverbs 27:17: "Iron sharpeneth iron; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend". Since I want to serve and please God, my close friend, the person I spent a lot of my time with needs to have the same desire because we either sharpen each other or make each other dull.

I am very blessed to have many friends that have these qualities. Sometimes my friends make mistakes and I understand, just as I know they do for me when I mess up. But overall, my friends are the best!
Radiantly Dictated By at

1 comment:

Notes From My Life said...

am i ur friend with these qualities?
(looking @ the screen with a poochy lip)
♥faithie

November 17, 2007 at 10:28 PM

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I Have Been Blessed!!!!


THE ROOM

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.
There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to
catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some
were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth.
Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.

I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it
and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this
room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw
a sorrow deeper than my own.

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.
He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name
of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
- Brian Moore